


be still, my foolish heart

by raedear



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fairy Tale Style, Fairy Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Human Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Magic, Prince Victor Nikiforov, a bedtime story, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23038975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear
Summary: A life is saved, love grows; choices have to be made.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 75
Kudos: 245





	be still, my foolish heart

It started, as these things so often do, with an act of kindness. So often in this world do we mistake strength for power. Truly, the most powerful force of all is the act of being kind to another. It is not always easy to be kind. Some people struggle with it immensely. 

Katsuki Yuuri however, was not one of those people. Katsuki Yuuri was kind, and possessed of the rare quality of being both soft-hearted and strong-willed. While he was not often able to see these virtues in himself, they were clear as day to anyone who knew him. Of course, not everyone believed them to be virtues at all. To some, to be kind or soft or gentle is to be weak. These people are wrong. 

These people matter little in truth, and they were far from Katsuki Yuuri’s mind when he came across a struggling hummingbird beneath a flourishing sakura tree. He had only ever seen such birds in some of the rare and expensive books Okukawa Minako kept in her private library, but between the long beak, the beautiful iridescence of its feathers, and the fluttering of one of its tiny wings, he was confident of its identity (although extremely puzzled by its existence, worlds away from where it should have been). It was no longer than his hand, and seemed to glitter like a precious jewel in the light, from the emerald green of its crown to the sapphire blue of its breast. 

Here is the first kindness of our story. Some people would see a bird in distress, and though they would be heart sorry for the creature, would walk on, leaving it to its fate. Others would do much worse, but they are not worth our consideration. Katsuki Yuuri however, without a thought, took the third, more difficult option. He scooped the poor creature up with gentle hands, keeping it carefully away from his curious puppy, and brought it close to his face to better see how he could help it. The bird seemed to shy away from him, even as one wing dragged in a fashion painful to see, and Yuuri hushed it softly as he brought it close to his chest for warmth. 

Abandoning all previous plans and errands, he rushed to see Okukawa Minako, who would know best how to help. Okukawa Minako had traveled the world you see, dancing and sharing stories and learning all she could. Yuuri had grown up at her knee, fascinated by everything she had to share, and Okukawa Minako (who had never wanted children, but loved Yuuri as her own) had taught him as much as she could. 

Yuuri was familiar then, with the sadness in her eyes, even as her face did not change upon being presented with the injured bird. She had little hope for the creature, it was clear. But still, Yuuri pressed her, and she relented. Hummingbirds, she explained, while beautiful, are frail. They must eat constantly to keep their wings in motion, for if their wings cannot move, then they cannot keep warm. If they cannot keep warm, they will slip into a deep sleep, one intended to see them through cold nights, but now a sleep from which they will not wake. 

Yuuri, his heart breaking in his chest for the beautiful bird in his hands, begged her to tell him what he could do, how could he help? Minako shook her head, grave and sad. The bird would need nectar, and sugar water, every half hour at least. It would need constant attention the likes of which one person could not provide. It would need warmth, and a stable wing, and more luck than all the spirits or the fae could provide. Yuuri knew that Minako meant every word, and he understood. But he had to try. He thanked her, sincere and resolved. He made his way home, gathering flowers by the handful as he went. 

Thus began three days of trial for Katsuki Yuuri. The first day, he made a tiny nest for the bird of cloth and silk and down, and tucked it between the warm stones of the hot spring, where it could warm the bird’s bones. He fed it sugar water at first, from a precious glass pipe that Minako had pressed into his hand when he made his intentions clear to her. He straightened and bound the bird’s delicate wing as best he could, weeping as he did to know he was causing it such pain. And he sat there, hour after hour, stroking its tiny head and whispering to it that he would care for it, until it could fly again. 

Every member of his family approached him in turn throughout the day, anxious that he not harm himself in pursuit of a doomed errand, but he had turned them all away. His father had sighed fondly, and promised to see to his chores. His sister had shaken her head, but promised to keep curious customers away. Only his mother, who knew her son as well as she knew her own breath, had kissed his forehead and wished him well. 

As the sun set, the bird fell asleep. 

Minako had warned him that hummingbirds sleep unlike any other creature. They seem to fall into death, they fall so still and slow. Yuuri had felt its heartbeat through its delicate body every time he touched it, so rapid it felt more like a bee buzzing in its chest than any heart Yuuri had ever known. He felt it, therefore, when that heartbeat slowed. Terrified, he kept his finger on the perfect sapphire spot on its breast, and sat awake the whole night through, counting its heartbeats and praying it would see the dawn. 

Miraculously, as the stars faded from the sky and the pink blush of the dawn warmed his skin, the hummingbird’s heart began to beat again, faster and faster as the sun climbed, until it raised its tiny head and seemed to regard him. Once more Yuuri wept, relief and hope both in every tear. 

On the second day, Yuuri presented the bird with flower after flower, for he knew sugar water would only help so far. The bird sipped at sakura and ume blossoms, but turned its face away from asago petals. When night fell again, and the bird once more slipped into its deathly sleep, Yuuri kept vigil still. His own fatigue was secondary.

On the third day, the bird turned its tiny head to nuzzle Yuuri’s palm as he fed it, and the lightness of heart he felt made up for every lost hour of rest. When night fell though, and Yuuri once again sat with the tip of his finger against the bird’s breast to count its heartbeats, grief began to overtake him. Would the beautiful creature ever truly recover? Or had he doomed it to a half life, without freedom? With such troubled thoughts on his mind, and exhaustion deep in his bones, entirely without intent, Yuuri fell asleep, lulled into dreams by the slow soft beat of the bird’s tiny heart. 

He woke with a terrified start at the first touch of morning sunlight on his face. He had failed in his watch, and he had failed the bird. He lifted his head from the warm stone, fearful and almost beyond hope, for he couldn’t feel its heartbeat under his finger anymore.

His breath stopped in his throat at what he found. 

Where once had lain a tiny, beautiful bird, sat a tiny, beautiful man. He was no bigger than the bird had been, and sprouting from his back were the bird’s glittering wings; one still bound to the splint he had fixed to it, only three days prior. He sat cross legged in his nest, and held the tip of Yuuri’s finger in an incomprehensibly tiny hand, stroking across his skin with the other as though soothing him, just as Yuuri had stroked his own finger over the bird’s delicate feathers.

Yuuri and the fairy (for Yuuri knew he could be nothing else, so perfect and lovely as he was) regarded each other silently as the sun rose around them.

Only when the sun was fully in the sky did the fairy move. He stopped stroking Yuuri’s finger, and with great care got to his feet. 

As he stood, his clothing became more apparent. He wore a tunic of the same vibrant blue as his plumage had been, although as Yuuri peered at it, it became obvious he was garbed in flower petals, somehow cunningly tailored into finer clothing than Yuuri had ever seen. His hair was long, and sparkling silver, pouring down his back like a waterfall caught in moonlight. Yuuri had thought the hummingbird the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He had been wrong. 

The fairy, when he found his feet, bowed low to Yuuri, hinged at the waist. His wings spread out as best they could to help him keep his balance. 

He thanked Yuuri, sincerely and respectfully, for saving his life. Without Yuuri’s help, he explained, his injuries would have been enough to overcome even his near-immortality, and he would have been lost with the rise of the moon on the first night. 

But Yuuri, who was as humble as he was kind, demurred. Anyone would have done the same. It was no trouble, there was no need for thanks. 

The fairy shook his tiny head, standing up straight again, gazing up at Yuuri with inhumanly blue eyes. He knew, as all the fae know, that the hearts of humans are not always pure, and that kindness such as Yuuri’s towards an injured creature was rare. 

He introduced himself as Viktor, prince of the realm beyond men, lord of the blossoming spring and the moon behind clouds. Yuuri was unsurprised. What else could he be but a prince? Viktor explained that as Yuuri had performed a selfless deed, he had earned the favour of the fae, and could be granted one wish, without tricks or consequences. He merely had to name his heart’s desire, and Viktor would see to it that it happened. 

Again, Yuuri demurred. What use had he for wishes? He and his family lived happily, comfortably. He had no use for riches, or fame, or glory. 

But Viktor insisted, grasping Yuuri’s fingertip again in his tiny hands. There must be something in his heart of hearts he coveted. 

No, said Yuuri. There is nothing, said Yuuri. What use were wishes? All he wanted could be achieved through hard work, and he had always been one to work hard. 

He found though, that he could not bear the disappointment in Viktor’s lovely face. Shyly, Yuuri asked if he might make a request, in lieu of a wish, so that Viktor might fulfill it if he chose to, and not because he must. Viktor, naturally distrustful as all fae must be, asked to hear his request before he agreed to such a bargain (bargains are risky for the fae you see, and he had already given Yuuri more power than he truly understood by giving him even part of his name).

Yuuri was unable to look at Viktor as he made his request, feeling it entirely too audacious. He wondered, haltingly, if Viktor would perhaps visit again, so that Yuuri might know he was alright? He explained that if he never saw him again, he would worry something might have happened to him. 

Well, Viktor was quite astounded by this. Although his experience with humans was admittedly limited, he had heard through other members of his court that they were selfish, and quick to demand all sorts of material things - gold, jewels, eternal life - without thought to the consequences of those requests. To have a human request only his occasional company, and even then to have it be a request at all, and not a demand, was entirely extraordinary. 

It was in part because of the sheer surprise of it all that Viktor found himself agreeing. Another part of him, smaller and new, wanted to know more about this curious human. Did he perhaps have some motive that was as yet unclear? Testing him slightly, Viktor asked his name. 

Katsuki Yuuri, came the reply. Prompt, and without hesitation. His complete name. Viktor knew it to be real as he felt the power of a name given freely. Entirely without artifice, Katsuki Yuuri had given him power over his life. 

Viktor bowed once more, before he removed the splint from his wing and stretched it out. Yuuri seemed surprised by his ability to move what had only the day before been a bent and broken wing, but Viktor found himself explaining that he had only needed to gather his strength again for his natural magic to heal the break. He had simply been too weak to do so when Yuuri found him. With one last curious look at Katsuki Yuuri’s open and honest face, he bid him farewell, and left. 

Yuuri slept for a day and a night after Viktor left him, and he dreamed of glittering wings and silver hair.

\---

It was a week before Viktor returned to Yuuri. Yuuri had thought of him every day that passed; had worried for his health, his happiness, and when at last he saw the flutter of wings faster than any other bird he had ever seen from the corner of his eye, he felt he could breathe deeply again.

Viktor did not speak to Yuuri, those early days. He merely allowed himself to be seen once or twice, and settled in to watch him. He was curious to know if Katsuki Yuuri would act the same way as he had before, when he didn’t know he was being watched. 

It seemed to Viktor that Katsuki Yuuri was determined to surprise him. 

Far from the selfish brutes Viktor had always considered humanity to be, Katsuki Yuuri and his family seemed entirely predisposed to be kind. He watched Yuuri work, dutifully cleaning and serving and helping around the onsen his family ran. He even spotted him step out in the rain one day to slip a stray dog a cut of meat he had “accidentally” dropped while cooking. The creature had been covered in mange, and in quite a sorry state all told, but Yuuri had stroked its back as it ate, and hadn’t seemed to mind the rain that wet his hair and clothes. 

Viktor took to following the members of his family too, to see if they would show the side of humanity he had always expected. Once more he was surprised. Yuuri’s mother was every bit as kindhearted as her son, as Viktor watched her give food even to someone who confessed they could not pay. She waved away their apologies as easily as someone would wave away an errant fly. 

He was entirely charmed, all told.

It was with this charm in his heart that he returned fully to Katsuki Yuuri, settling on his hand one night as he lay in bed. If Yuuri was surprised to see him there, he didn’t show it. He merely smiled at Viktor, and asked after his health. Viktor found himself peppering him with questions, suddenly desperately curious about him, and humans in general. Yuuri answered to the best of his abilities, and they spoke through the night, whispering secret conversations (the likes of which are not to be shared).

Something shifted between them though, that night, and Viktor found himself drawn to the onsen with increasing frequency. He stopped hiding in the shadows, and took to hiding himself in Yuuri’s pocket, so he could peer out at the world and see it as Yuuri saw it. Yuuri never said anything about it, although he blushed fiercely to know he carried a prince the way one would carry some little item of no importance. 

Every time Viktor felt he was coming close to understanding the minds of humans, Yuuri’s mind in particular, something would happen to surprise him anew. The day came when Yuuri had no clothes with pockets clean, and Viktor understood, and returned to watching them from the edges of the room (even though he was sad that he could not hear Yuuri’s voice quite so clearly, nor receive his little whispered explanations). The next morning, when he returned to the onsen, he found Yuuri still asleep at his little table, even though the sun was high in the sky and the day already begun. He had sat up through the night, adding pockets to all of his clothes. Every haori, every jinbei, even the few western-style tunics Minako had gifted to him, all now had a tiny space for Viktor to hide. 

When he would think back on it later, when fear of loss and grief for events yet to come gripped him, Viktor would realise that this was when he started to fall in love with Yuuri. 

But neither of them were to know that yet, of course. 

No, they carried on, in their slow and quiet way. Viktor visited daily now, staying longer and longer with Yuuri, and Yuuri was glad of it. 

\---

Now, what must be understood about the fae, is that they understand the nature of the world in a way humans never can. They understand the flow of time, given they have so much of it. It is because they have so much of it though, that they know the significance of even the shortest times. 

A year and a day had passed, since Katsuki Yuuri saved Viktor’s life. The fae don’t keep time the way humans do, but this is a time period they know well. A year and a day is time enough for curses to break, for lives to change, for love to grow. 

And Viktor and Yuuri had certainly grown to love each other. Viktor scarcely left Yuuri’s side anymore, and Yuuri ached to hear his voice when he was gone. 

What also must be understood about the fae before this story can be told, is that it is a lonely existence. Viktor, as prince of the realm beyond men, lord of the blossoming spring and the moon behind clouds, had duties to fulfil, and obligations to his court of course, but they were scant. The fae are also naturally seclusive, preferring to avoid even their own kind in favour of solitude. Here was where Viktor was an aberration. He had found, in his time with the Katsuki family, that he enjoyed their company (unknowing as it was for the most part that they had a fairy in their midst, nudging their fortunes where he could) and missed them when they were apart. He craved their company, even though they did not know to crave his. 

It was with this ache in his breast, and his heartsick love of Yuuri, which he had long since recognised as growing within him, that he presented him with his choice.

You see, and this will come as no surprise to you, the fae have magic. Some, like Viktor, have more than others. Viktor had enough for his duties yes, but he had more still. He had power enough to change the nature of reality, truth be told. 

The rub, however, was that he could only do it once. 

And so he told Yuuri, as the sun set, a year and a day after they met. 

He told Yuuri that, should he desire it, Viktor could change his form to be with him. He could give up his wings and his magic, and be a human man; flesh and blood and bone, entirely mortal. In the face of Yuuri’s silent shock, he carried on. The choice that could be made could go the other way. Yuuri could be fae. Viktor could gift him wings, and immortality, and they could be together beyond all ages of humanity. He need only choose, and Viktor would move the sun in the sky for him. 

Now, Viktor was not unrequited in his love of Yuuri. No, in truth, Yuuri loved him just as deeply in return. Yuuri had prayed, every hour that Viktor was absent from his sight, that Viktor would return to him. That he would grace him with his presence, just a little longer. He had felt indescribably selfish in doing so, but had been unable to stop himself. He loved him, quietly and secretly, and would have him by his side always if he could.

Presented with that choice however, manifest and made possible, set ice to Yuuri’s blood. 

How, he thought as he stared at Viktor in growing horror, how could he take from Viktor his grace? His wings? His immortality? He wasn’t worth that. He was just Yuuri, second child of Toshiya and Hiroko, brother to Mari. He was nothing compared to Viktor, and he knew it (Viktor would have wept to have heard such thoughts from his beloved, but we will spare him that pain).

It was thinking of his family that soured the choice Viktor had given him further still. As much as he could not bear to let Viktor go, nor could he bear to give up his family. He would grieve for them more than a lost limb, he knew. While aeons with Viktor by his side would bring him joy beyond measure, he would have to live with the knowledge that he could never see them again. Never feel Mari’s gruff warmth; see his father’s caring smile, or hear his mother call his name.

Yuuri wept. Viktor felt grief and fear enter his life for the first time, looking upon the face of his beloved. He could no more dry Yuuri’s tears than he could embrace him the way he had long wished to, and all he could do was sit in the cradle of his hand, and stroke his thumb, and wait.

When Yuuri finally calmed, he looked at Viktor in an entirely new way. Some steel was in his gaze, some determination entirely new.

Viktor closed his eyes as Yuuri began to speak, already dreading the breaking of his heart, which had felt newly grown in his chest only moments before. 

But once more, Yuuri surprised him. 

Three days, and three nights, said Yuuri, who had learned from Viktor the importance of such auspicious times. Three days and three nights, and Yuuri would seek counsel from the spirits who occupied the lands. He would seek counsel, and he would return to Viktor on the dawning of the fourth day. Only when he had said this did his confidence seem to break, the shy Yuuri Viktor had loved so much returning to him. Could Viktor wait that long for an answer, he asked. 

Viktor, choked by fear and hope both, promised he could.

Dawn had barely raised its head the next morning when Yuuri left. Viktor remained within the onsen, wracked with worry unlike anything he had felt before. Was this what it felt like to be human? To be dependent on another? He had no answers, and he merely watched from the roof until Yuuri was out of sight, feeling as though Yuuri had taken some part of him with him when he went. He hoped he would keep it safe.

\---

Yuuri almost turned back three times on the first leg of his journey. Each time, he felt sure he had made the right decision, and was ready to flee back to Viktor’s side, and in turn each time something new would occur to him, and he would stop. 

What is one to do when presented with everything they’ve ever wanted, and something they’ve never known to want? It was not as simple as grabbing it with both hands, no matter what his heart said. The very nature of magic was tricky. 

No, there was no turning back. He needed to know. He needed insights beyond what Viktor or his family, or even Minako could provide. 

And thus, he sought out the spirits of the land. 

Firstly, he sought out the spirit of the ocean. It took him until night had fallen again to reach the great temple by the sea where the spirit resided, and the roar of the waves seemed to echo in his bones. He called for it, begging for its advice. 

The spirits of the land are bound to help those who seek their counsel. They cannot ignore an earnest entreaty for help. 

This does not mean they like it. 

The spirit that showed itself to Yuuri took the form of a child. Fair of hair and face, its age surprised Yuuri, who thought the ocean spirit would be old as the ocean itself. Instead, a child raged at him with all the strength of the crashing waves. How dare he, the child roared, how dare he call him from his slumber? What need could a mortal have for the counsel of the ancients?

Under the ocean spirit’s furious green eyes, Yuuri explained. The ocean calmed around them. The waves ceased their roar as Yuuri spoke of his year and a day with Viktor. The wind settled as he described their love. The noise ceased completely as he explained Viktor’s choice. 

The ocean spirit’s age showed in its eyes as it silently appraised Yuuri, and harsh as its voice was when it spoke at last, there was a kindness to its words. 

Time, it explained, was the domain of the ocean. As the tide is unceasing, so too is the passage of time. A human life is over and done in a blink to the oceans, and to the fae. The blessing of time is that it is forgetful. Yes, he would grieve at first for his family, but immortality would smooth over the hurt, and take his memories from him as the wave clears the sand. Better to have eons with a loved one, and love them anew each day, than to have a moment with them, lost to the wind and the water when all is said and done. 

Yuuri thanked the spirit for its counsel, and wished it well, and tried to neither smile nor flinch when it raged again to be thanked by someone so inconsequential. He had seen the tiny pleased smile on its face before it turned away, and had been heartened by it. 

And so he carried on. He journeyed again throughout the night, stopping only once to sleep, for the next spirit he was to call upon could only be spoken with while the sun was high in the sky. 

In a plot of flourishing barley, golden and glimmering in the afternoon light, he met the spirit of the fields. 

This time, the spirit took the form of a young man, with dark hair and light eyes, lined heavily in black to keep the sun from them. This spirit did not rage, or shout, but wept to hear Yuuri’s tale. 

The spirit explained that as the sun rose and set, and as the great wheel of the seasons turned, so too should life. What is a life after all, without an end? The spirit of the field lived and died anew and again with the coming of winter, and thus he knew what it was, in a way, to live as a mortal. It entreated Yuuri to think of life not as a shackle, but as the greatest of freedoms. 

Once again, Yuuri thanked it for its counsel, and wished it well. The spirit was gone between one blink and the next, and Yuuri carried on. 

The third spirit, he met in an ancient forest. It cut a swathe through the land, neatly separating the thriving fields from the barren sea. The spirit stepped out from behind the largest tree Yuuri had ever seen, almost the instant he spoke. This spirit was again a young man, but this time it had kind dark eyes, and warm copper skin. Its smile was broad as it listened to Yuuri’s pleas for wisdom, and its very presence served to comfort him.

The spirit sat at the base of its tree, and Yuuri sat with it, exhausted by his journey and by his choice both. 

In a quiet voice that felt somehow like talking to an old friend, the spirit spoke with him. It was, it explained, the boundary between the ocean and the field for a reason. It described the way the great forests witness the rise and fall of the sun, the turn of the seasons, the passage of life, but so too do they witness the eternal dance of the ocean, the ephemeral nature of infinity, seen in every wave and gone in a blink. A forest can live forever, growing infinitely upwards and outwards, or it can be destroyed in a day. 

Somewhere between mortality and immortality, it said, lies possibility.

It left Yuuri then, with a farewell like a friend, before it vanished among the trees.

Yuuri remained, seated at the foot of the great tree.

What could it have meant, about somewhere between mortality and immortality? Were they not the two great states of being? What was the possibility that lay between? 

Yuuri considered every moment of his time with Viktor, the memories more precious to him than any gem. Since the moment he first held Viktor in his hands, a wounded bird of surpassing beauty, he had loved him. More than once he had dreamed awful dreams of not seeing him suffering, or walking by without a thought (while we know this to be an impossibility, Yuuri was as much a creature of worry as he was of kindness).

He found himself weeping, heart sick and still no closer to his decision. He wished Viktor was with him, to help him, but at the same time he was grateful he was not, because if he saw his lovely face he wasn’t sure what he would do. He wished his mother was there, who was always such a comfort to him, but she did not know of Viktor, and he did not have the heart to tell her what choice he had to make. 

He wished-

He wished. 

And he knew.

He knew what lay between mortality and immortality. He knew what the possibility was. He raised his head in shock and hopeful joy - and was horrified to see the moon high in the sky. He had lingered too long. Leaping to his feet, he ran. He had to be back to Viktor before the dawn.

\---

Viktor had waited for Yuuri, patient as the mountains despite the fear in his heart. The fae, as they are small creatures (although not in the way we understand) feel with their entire bodies, and thus they do not often allow themselves emotions. Viktor could no more deny his emotions than he could deny his breath. He had to feel, although it pained him, because if he locked away his fear over Yuuri’s absence, so too would he have to lock away his love, which consumed him entirely. He loved Yuuri, and he was afraid, and he was patient.

His fear was tested on the third night. The moon rose, and still Yuuri had not returned. The stars spilled across the sky, but the path to the onsen remained empty. 

It was only as the first pink stroke of dawn spilled across the sky that Viktor finally heard the pounding of running feet. 

There was Yuuri, returned to him. Although his face was red, and his breaths came quick and heavy, he was the most beautiful sight Viktor had ever seen. He went to him, to lay his tiny hand upon his cheek and know he was real, and he though ached still with fear, he now had hope also, to keep his heart warm. 

When Yuuri smiled at him, warm and triumphant, the fear began to leave Viktor. 

You thought you could trick me, said Yuuri. You thought I would forget, said Yuuri. His smile was so wide. I forgot, said Yuuri, but now I have remembered. 

Confused, disheartened, terrified, Viktor laid his hand again on Yuuri’s cheek and entreated him to explain. 

Now, what Viktor had forgotten, and perhaps you have too, is that acts of service require payment.

You owe me a wish still, Prince Viktor, said his love, bright as the dawn around them. 

Wishes, as we all know, have magic all their own. 

What use is a wish that relies on power? Wishes, like the one promised by Viktor, can only be offered freely, and fulfilled selflessly, without weight or measure. They come from the soul, not the strength. 

Make your wish, said Viktor, fearful and trusting and confused and hopeful and all things in between.

Between mortality and immortality, lies possibility.

I wish, said Yuuri (for the words are important, always) that we may spend one human life together, and when it is over, we may have a choice to make together. I wish that your power may be locked away, until such time as we have need of it. 

The spirit of the ocean was right, when it said that to love someone anew, each day forever, was a state of such joy as to be indescribable. The field spirit too, was right when it said that to live a life with an end was to know freedom beyond measure. 

But the spirit of the forest, in its great wisdom, saw the truth. Viktor and Yuuri were a meeting of worlds, an impossibility in and of themselves, and they could have both, should they wish it. 

And Viktor smiled as he gazed upon the face of his beloved, shining with hope and joy. He smiled, and the sun rose behind him, so bright that Yuuri had to look away, although he loathed to do so. 

When his eyes cleared, and the sun passed by, the world had changed. 

Stood before him was a man, tall and strong and fair. He was absent his beautiful wings, but his eyes still shone bluer than any sky, the life of his magic vibrant and sleeping within.

They were both in that moment made new. They embraced, for the first time, under the blushing sky, which was overjoyed to bear witness to their love. 

They shared their first embrace, of all the embraces to come, in this life and the next, forever and always (should they wish it) and they were glad. Their love, eternal as the stars, realised at last. 

And they lived happily ever after, in this life, and the next, and all the lives beyond.

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you have a bad day and you tell your friends a bedtime story to make yourself feel better. 
> 
> Leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed? <3
> 
> Catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/raedear_writes)


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